Gray Angel
by Taylor A. Blackstone
Summary: Resistance agent Tiber Adarra has been tasked with aiding the organization's intelligence-gathering efforts and is sent off by General Organa to pose as a spacer in the hopes of finding allies and tracking the activities of the First Order. Arrangements have been made to acquire a ship for his mission, but things start going awry when he arrives on Nar Shaddaa to retrieve it...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

There were few things Tiber Adarra found more relaxing than flight exercises. He remained in tight formation with his flight group above D'Qar, taking his X-wing through a series of maneuvers through the massive debris field that made up the planet's rings. He dodged each floating space rock with ease, all while keeping pace with his wingmates. There were half a dozen of them there at the moment, taking their fighters through a series of complex flight maneuvers and practicing precision shooting on some of the smaller asteroids. Action around D'Qar was minimal save for the occasional pirate or smuggler who came to the Ileenium System for a place to hide out. Even then, General Organa had insisted they use those as recruitment opportunities – the Resistance had to make do with what allies they could scrape together. After her humiliation in the Senate, the General didn't have a lot of friends left.

Needless to say, this left Tiber and the others a bit restless.

"All right, good flying, people," Poe Dameron's voice crackled over the comm, "Anybody feeling up for a race?"

"You just want an excuse to show off," Tiber said in his unmistakable raspy baritone.

"What's that, Captain?" Poe asked, his amusement ill-disguised. Poe and Tiber had been friends since they were both old enough to walk and loved nothing more than trying to outclass each other.

"Just saying that I could kick your ass with both of my legs bound, Commander," Tiber said.

"What's the destination?" asked Jess Pava.

"We've got a comm satellite in orbit about 80 kilometers from our current position," Poe said. Tiber brought it up on his scanner. "On my mark, we'll race for it."

"What do we win?" Tiber asked.

"Bragging rights, naturally," Poe said blithely. "I can start bragging now, if you prefer."

"Blow it out your exhaust port, Dameron," Tiber said to a chorus of laughs from the other pilots.

"Oh, it is on, Adarra!" Poe said, clearly excited for a race against his old friend. "Go!"

On his mark, all six X-wings immediately gunned their engines, dropping into a dive toward the comm satellite Poe had marked. Tiber weaved his way through D'Qar's debris field, guided by pure instinct as much as years of piloting experience. He focused only on the target, letting his hands do the rest as if his body had gone on autopilot. Through the canopy, he could see Poe's distinctive black and gold X-wing, just above him, keeping pace. His scanners showed the other four pilots arrayed behind them, trying desperately to catch up. The satellite drew closer, distance closing rapidly and he was still nose-to-nose with Poe. He could just about feel his friend's excitement, the exhilaration blasting forth like a solar wind. They passed the satellite at about the same time, the remaining four pilots zooming in along behind them.

"Yes!" Poe exclaimed. "Ha ha, I win again!"

"In your dreams, Dameron," Tiber said. "I clearly won!"

"All right, all right, let's settle this," Poe said. "Orla, I had you coming in right behind us. Who passed the satellite first?"

"Honestly," Orla said, heaving a sigh. "You two were so close, it's literally impossible to tell."

"What?" Poe asked, sounding disbelieving.

"Are you sure?" Tiber asked.

"Did anybody else get a clear picture of who passed the target first?" Orla asked the other pilots. The answer was a resounding "No."

"All in favor of calling a draw, say 'aye'," said Ello Asty.

There was a chorus of "ayes" from the other pilots, save for Tiber and Poe.

"The ayes have it!" Jess said.

Tiber just laughed and said, "Ahh, dammit. Whatever, I'll settle for a tie."

"Losing step in your old age there, Captain?" Poe asked, though he himself was only a year younger than Tiber.

"Watch it, you little whippersnapper," Tiber said, affecting a curmudgeonly growl. "I'll show you a thing or two about a thing or two."

"That's 'Commander Whippersnapper' to you, Adarra."

The others laughed about all the way back to the surface. The pilots all brought their X-wings in for a landing, mechanics rushing in to refit and refuel the grounded fighters. Tiber climbed out of his X-wing's cockpit, removing his helmet and reaching up to run his fingers through his short, dark brown hair. When he removed the helmet, one of the younger mechanics almost flinched at the sight of him. Tiber was used to it at this point and paid the kid's reaction no mind. A curved and ugly white burn scar ran down along the side of his face, ending near the edge of his chin, standing out starkly against his olive-toned skin. It was an eternal reminder of what he fought for and what he could have become and he wore it like a badge of honor despite offers to have it covered or at least partially healed via dermal regeneration. "No warrior should be ashamed of his scars," he would say.

He walked out toward the runway carrying his helmet under his arm, the pilot in the X-wing next to him climbing out of the cockpit. She was a blue-skinned Twi'lek woman, wearing a specially fitted helmet to accommodate her lekku. She removed her helmet and raised a hand to wave at Tiber.

"Third place?" Tiber asked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Come on, Orla, you can do better than that."

"Second place, technically, since you and Poe tied for first," she corrected, giving her friend a light punch on the arm. "Trying to out-fly the two of you is like trying to attack both Death Stars at the same time. At least if I'm focusing on one of you, I might have a chance at winning."

"We are pretty damn good, aren't we?" Tiber asked, flashing a cocky grin.

"The best," Orla said, smiling at him.

"Hey, Tiber!" Poe was walking over from his X-wing's berth, his one-of-a-kind astromech droid rolling along merrily behind him. Poe was grinning like a little kid who just got done playing his favorite game. "You owe me a rematch."

"That I do, old buddy," Tiber said. "I need to whip your ass properly."

"You'd best watch out, my friend, those are fightin' words," Poe said, bouncing his fight helmet from hand to hand.

"How else am I gonna get you keyed up for another race?" Tiber asked, arching a brow. "You're only at your best when you think you're gonna win, yeah?"

"Which is all the time," Orla said.

Poe just grinned and refused to deny the accusation. The three of them were interrupted a moment by a young man in a green jumpsuit who snapped to a nervous salute when he approached. Tiber looked him over and realized he didn't recognize the young human. New meat. There seemed to be a lot of newbies flocking to D'Qar lately. More help was never a bad thing.

"Captain Adarra?" he said. "General Organa wants to have a word with you, sir."

"I'll go see her at once," he said, nodding to the young recruit and then to Poe and Orla, "I'll catch up with you guys later."

"You got it," Poe said, trading a quick handshake with Tiber before letting his friend go.

Tiber followed the young private into the bunker, exchanging occasional greetings with some of the other personnel who passed. The two of them wound their way through the throng of people to a side room where the General was waiting in the company of her fussy protocol droid, C-3PO. Leia Organa looked more like the fabled war hero of the Rebellion now than ever, dressed in an olive drab jumpsuit and black vest, a blaster pistol hanging from her belt. In the dim, blue light of the holo projector she stood at, she looked old and tired. Given all that had happened to her over the years, Tiber was amazed that she was still standing sometimes. Yet the sheer force of her personality had not waned in the slightest. There were few people in the galaxy Tiber respected as much as her.

"General?" the private said, saluting. "Captain Adarra is here as requested, ma'am."

"Thank you, Private. You're dismissed," she said and turned her attention to Tiber as the private left. "Captain, thank you for coming."

"Of course," he said, setting his helmet down on the edge of the holo projector. "What do you need?"

"Got an assignment for you," she said and tapped a few buttons on the projector, bringing up the projection of a moon in orbit around its parent planet. "Nar Shadaa, the Vertical City. You familiar with it?"

"By reputation," Tiber said, leaning on the side of the projector. "Let me guess: you want me to go to that slag heap incognito?"

"Something like that," Leia said with a sly little smile. "This is not an easy mission and the list of people I can trust with it is far too short. You and Poe are right at the top and I need one of you here for the time being. Tiber, before I tell you anything else, let me just say this: It is not easy for me in any way to ask this of you, but I need to for the good of the Resistance. Are you willing to do whatever it takes to help us?"

"You know I am, General," Tiber said. His instincts told him he wasn't going to like this, but he could hardly say no to her. He owed her too damn much to ever turn her down.

"This is going to be a long-term mission, so you'll need to leave the starfighter corps for the time being," she said.

Tiber had to resist the urge to heave a sigh. Leave the starfighter corps. Mothball his X-wing and fly out to that cesspool for some kind of espionage mission, he assumed. Dammit, but he loved flying too much. On the other hand, the General needed someone she could trust to do this. Tiber wasn't the sort to turn down a dangerous assignment, but he was usually in the cockpit when he was sent off on one. This was going to be a little outside of his experience, but if the General thought he could do this, he would do his damnedest to make sure she wasn't disappointed.

"As much as I don't want to, it sounds like I need to," Tiber said. "What am I doing on Nar Shadaa?"

"Picking up a new ship for your mission," Leia said, flashing that sly smile again. "I just need a reliable captain for her. So there is an upside to you leaving the starfighter corps behind."

Tiber nodded his head and considered that. His own ship. Now that was something he could get behind. At least he wouldn't have to abandon his love of flying for this.

"I take it you already have a ship in mind, General?" he asked.

"We've arranged for the purchase of a modified light freighter from a dealer by the name of Gorgo the Hutt," Leia said, her mouth twisting in distaste. Tiber didn't blame her. "He's pretty small-time compared to a lot of his contemporaries and for the most part, at least tries to pretend that he operates on the level."

"Yeah, the Hutts never bothered trying to paint themselves as legitimate businessmen before," Tiber said dryly.

"You've gotta do what you've gotta do to survive in this galaxy, I guess," Leia said. "We've got fake identification ready to go for you and everything, Gorgo just needs to meet the buyer in person to inspect the ship and finalize the purchase. Credits have already been allocated for the transaction, as well."

"Sounds good," Tiber said, rubbing his chin. "So, who I am going to be for this little charade?"

"You are a small-time Corellian mercenary and shipper of discreet and dubious goods by the name of Jayce Windcutter," Leia said. "I've taken the liberty of giving you a reputation and everything."

"I like it," Tiber said, nodding his head. "What about a crew? Can't be a captain without one."

"You're mostly on your own for that, I'm afraid," Leia said and this time her smile was rueful. "But, I do at least want you take some of our people with you. Take no more than three from our base here. Beyond that, how big the crew is is entirely at your discretion. You're a good judge of character. I trust you enough to be able to put together a solid, reliable team."

"I've already got some people in mind," Tiber said.

"Good," Leia said. "And for the pickup, I want you to take Threepio with you."

C-3PO, who had remained largely silent throughout the exchange, swiveled toward the General in alarm. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness?"

Tiber tried not to laugh at the poor old droid's reaction. He knew Threepio to be something of a fusspot, the sort of being that didn't like to take risks of any kind. One would think that after spending so much time with people like General Organa and Luke Skywalker, he would have grown accustomed to such things. But no.

"It's important for him to have all the necessary information readily at hand," Leia explained, laying a hand fondly on Threepio's mismatched red arm. "And he may need a translator."

"I promise I won't put us at risk unnecessarily," Tiber added.

Threepio seemed reluctant, but acquiesced. "Very well. I will make necessary preparations. Do let me know as soon as you are ready to depart for Nar Shaddaa, Captain Adarra."

"Of course," Tiber said. "I'll be back when I've gotten everyone I need."

"Take your time," Leia said and dismissed him.

Tiber walked back out into the main chamber of the base, looking around but not immediately any of the people he had in mind. For the team he'd be taking to Nar Shaddaa, he'd need a bridge crew and someone to cover his back on the ground. Simple enough. He walked back toward the lounge area where the other X-wing pilots were no doubt taking a few minutes to put their feet up after the flight exercises. The way things were going around D'Qar right now, there wasn't much to do. Tiber saw, Poe, Orla, Jess, and the others sitting around at a table, everyone still wearing their orange flight suits. Poe was the first to spot him and raised a hand.

"Hey, Tiber, join us for a drink?" he said.

"Can't right now, sorry," he said. "Orla, can I see you for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, sure," Orla said and got up from the table to follow Tiber out of the lounge. "What's going on? This about what the General wanted?"

"Yeah," Tiber said, glancing over his shoulder. "She needs me to put together a team for a special assignment."

Orla looked positively pleased to have been selected, "Ooh, well, this is exciting."

"Yeah, well, wait til you hear where we're going," he said and gently caught the shoulder of a passing corporal. "Excuse me, could you get Sergeant Harkness and Lieutenant Roma and tell them to meet me in the southern conference room?"

"Right away, Captain," the corporal said and hurried off.

"Small team," Orla noted as they headed down toward the southern conference room.

"All I'm allowed to take," Tiber said, walking into the conference room and sitting on the table. "I'll explain everything when Harkness and Roma get here."

Surely enough, the two human men appeared in short order. Sergeant Wes Harkness was the first to arrive. He was a head taller than Tiber and Orla both, musclebound and fair-skinned, making his short dark beard look that much darker. He wore a gray security uniform that denoted his rank and a black cap atop his bald head. Lieutenant Yuri Roma followed him in, a centimeter or two shorter than Tiber. He was a lean man with amber skin and short black hair, dressed in a gray officer's uniform, his hands clasped behind his back. Tiber glanced around at the three of them approvingly. They were just what he needed.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" Lieutenant Roma asked.

"That I did," Tiber said. "General Organa's given me a new assignment and she's requested that I put together a team for said assignment. Given your individual skill sets, I thought the three of you would be a good fit, provided that you're willing to accompany me. I'll give you a general rundown of what we'd be doing. If you don't want in, just say the word."

"I'm willing to hear you out, Captain," Sergeant Harkness said, scratching at his beard.

Tiber gave them a description of the assignment as laid out by the General, gauging their reactions as he spoke. Orla looked intrigued, Yuri looked bewildered and Wes looked mostly impassive, but the way he stroked at his beard said that he was giving the mission some serious thought. Tiber concluded his spiel and let everything sink in for a moment. He looked around at them a moment before he spoke again.

"Thoughts?"

"I'm in," Orla said almost immediately.

"Sure as hell would beat running security against the local wildlife every day," Wes said and shrugged his broad shoulders. "What the hell? I'm in, too."

"This is definitely outside my experience," Yuri said, wringing his hands. "I've never served on a ship before, you understand."

"I need a trustworthy communications officer," Tiber said. "You're one of the best comm techs we've got, which is why I picked you. If you don't think you're up for it, that's fine."

"I just...need to give it a little thought first, Captain," Yuri said.

"No worries," Tiber said, shrugging his shoulders. "But I do need to have an answer for the General soon. Let me know as soon as you've made up your mind, all right, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. In the meantime, you two come with me," Tiber said, gesturing to Wes and Orla. "We'll go have a word with General Organa and see what the next steps are. Doesn't sound like she needs us to fly out to Nar Shaddaa anytime soon just yet, but we should be ready to go just in case."

Tiber led Wes and Orla back to the side room where he spoke with the General. She seemed pleased that he had been able to start putting together a team so quickly.

"What about Lieutenant Roma?" she asked after Tiber explained his choices.

"He needs a little time to mull it over," Tiber said. "How soon do we need to leave, General?"

"As soon as you possibly can," she said. "The sooner the better, really. I'll feel better once I know that you've gotten the ship. After all the details have been squared away, I'll need you and your crew to come right back to D'Qar for a debriefing and additional assignment details. We can't do much unless you have that ship, Tiber."

"Understood," Tiber said. "Guess I can't ask what you intend for us to do just yet?"

"One thing at a time, Captain," Leia said, though the lines around her eyes deepened with amusement. "I know how hungry you've been for some real action, but let's not get you too excited just yet, huh?"

"I'm excited now," Tiber deadpanned.

"Begging your pardon, Captain Adarra," Threepio interjected. Leia almost rolled her eyes. "If you'll forgive me for saying so, you do not appear to be displaying any outward signs of excitement-"

"I'm excited on the inside Threepio," he said patiently. "Just not displaying it."

"Oh," Threepio said. "As you say, sir."

"As soon as we hear back from Yuri, we'll let you know as soon we're ready to leave," Tiber said. "In the meantime-"

"Captain?"

Tiber turned around, rather surprised to see Yuri walk into the room. He snapped to a quick salute and said, "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I've made my decision. I'm going with you."

"That was quick," Wes said.

"I spoke with Major Narala after I returned to my post," he said. "I told her about my dilemma and she convinced me to accept. I'm ready to leave whenever you are, Captain."

"Excellent," Tiber said and looked at Leia. "We'll make our preparations and head out as soon as you need us to, General."

"Perfect," Leia said. "There's a transport ready to take you five to Nar Shaddaa as soon as possible. Good luck. And may the Force be with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tiber had gone back to the lounge to speak with the other pilots and break the news to them. Everybody was disappointed to see that he and Orla were both leaving, but they all knew that they had to go where they were needed, as small as the Resistance was. They shared some engine-room hooch with the other pilots and went back to their bunks to get what little they possessed for the trip. Tiber traded in his flight suit for a simple blue shirt, gray pants and a long black coat that hung to his thighs. For his part, he had to look as much a seedy spacer as possible in order to get what he needed. That part was easy enough. With his face and raspy voice, Tiber probably looked like every other spacefaring scoundrel puttering about the Outer Rim doing less-than-legal transport jobs for "legitimate businessmen".

Going through his footlocker, Tiber paused when his fingers closed around his grandfather's old lightsaber. His lightsaber now. He lifted it out of the trunk, wondering if he would ever need to use it again. As far as the Knights of Ren were concerned, Tiber died with the other apprentices. How long would they believe that? Did they believe that in the first place? He had been friends with Ben once, a long time ago. Sometimes, he could still feel the unbearable heat of Ben Solo's crimson-bladed lightsaber slashing across his face. He often wondered if Ben had not killed him outright out of some sense of pity, a faint memory of the friendship that was. A mission like this, he was bound to run into one of them sooner or later. Perhaps this was the General's way of telling him that it was time to come out of hiding.

He slipped the lightsaber into a loop on his belt. Just in case.

The rest of the team was waiting outside, everyone in some form of civilian gear, though Wes was wearing a chest plate and had a blaster rifle slung across his back. Good. Tiber needed someone to play bodyguard for him. The transport that would be taking them to Nar Shaddaa was a boxy little thing, probably scrounged from a junkyard or liberated from an uncooperative smuggler. They were to pose as travelers booking passage on an independent ship. Tiber joined his team near the loading ramp. General Leia was waiting there, holding a data pad.

"Captain Windcutter," she said, quirking a smile at Tiber. She handed him the data pad. "Your credentials."

"Thank you, General," Tiber said, slipping the data pad into a pocket in the front of his jacket. "Hopefully, we'll be back soon with a shiny new ship."

"Well, not all that shiny, perhaps," Leia said. "But we do need it. And if I might offer one piece of advice I learned from Luke? Hutts are immune to mind tricks. Gorgo won't be swayed that easily if things go sour."

"Noted," Tiber said, trying to come to grips with the fact that he may actually need to put his Jedi training to use. He had been training by himself in secret since he arrived at D'Qar with no real chance to put his powers into practice.

Leia smiled and put her hands on his shoulders in a way that reminded Tiber of his own mother. "Take care of yourself, kiddo."

"Will do," he said and the two of them hugged. After they separated, Leia stood back to address the team.

"You all have your instructions and you know what needs to be done," she said. "I don't think it needs to be said that I expect each and every one of you to use your best judgment should a dangerous situation arise. I can only hope that this will go smoothly, but you know as well as I do that plans rarely go the way we want them to. Stay on your guard and watch each other's back. I know you can do this."

"Yes, ma'am," Tiber said.

Tiber sat in the transport's hold, reviewing the information on the data pad that the General had given him while going over the specifics with Threepio, who had rattled off all the specifications of the freighter they were supposed to pick up. The only thing missing was the name. The ship had not yet officially been given a name and that would be up to Tiber. Though once he was done recapping the plan with Threepio, he and the others were bouncing possible ship names off each other to pass the time.

"We could go with the _Windcutter_ in honor of your alias," Orla suggested.

"Nah," Tiber said, arms folded behind his head. "There's probably a thousand ships out there with that name. How about...the _Sunshark_?"

"We can throw that one in the 'maybe' pile, I think," Yuri said, keeping track of the names on his own data pad. "It's not bad."

"The _Serenity_?" Wes suggested.

"Are you just throwing random words at me?" Tiber asked, arching a brow.

"Seems as good an idea as any," Wes said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

"I beg your pardon, Captain," Threepio said. "Do we truly need to spend so much time deciding on a name for the ship?"

"It's the only thing we don't have," Tiber said. "Besides, if this is going to be ours, we might as well come up with a name that we like, right? Do you have any ideas?"

"I apologize, Captain, but naming starships is outside my areas of expertise," Threepio said.

"Pity," Tiber said, leaning back into his seat.

"We should have more time to come up with something when we get to Nar Shaddaa," Yuri said. "Remind me again, what kind of being is this Gorgo the Hutt?"

"According to our records, Gorgo the Hutt is primarily a starship dealer," Threepio interjected, eager to be of use. "Though we suspect he is also involved in various types of smuggling such as illegal weapons and spice. We believe that he smuggles illicit materials offworld by hiding them inside the ships he sells, and the spacers who purchase them funnel the materials to predetermined destinations."

"Doesn't that set the spacers back?" Wes asked.

"The money comes from the recipients of the illicit items in question. The spacers keep the new ships as compensation from Gorgo," Threepio explained. "Quite an ingenious system of operation, really."

"Well, we're not here to run spice," Tiber said. "We're legitimate buyers."

"Using a fake ID," Orla noted dryly.

"I'm supposed to be dead, remember?" Tiber pointed out and tapped his scarred cheek. "Don't know how much longer I'll need to be dead, though."

"You left a good-looking corpse, though," Orla said, crossing her legs and smirking at Tiber.

Tiber winked, "Flattered, but I still don't swing that way, Orla."

Wes started cackling and folded his arms over his belly. Yuri just shook his head at Orla.

"I'm pretty sure it's inappropriate to hit on your commanding officers," he said.

"Oh, please, we're not with the Republic any longer," Orla said. "I don't see the General getting our cases for fraternization, anyway."

"It's not fraternizing if I shoot you down," Tiber said.

"Ouch," Orla said, laying a hand on her chest. "That was cold, Captain."

Tiber was about to respond when the pilot's voice came on over the intercom, "We're getting ready to come out of hyperspace, Captain."

"Acknowledged," Tiber said, strapping himself into his seat. "All right, people, strap in and get ready for landing."

The transport came out of hyperspace over Nar Shaddaa and Tiber went to join the pilot and copilot on the bridge as they were speaking with traffic control over the comm. He saw the lights of the city through the viewport, watching as the shapes of individual buildings became more distinct. He had seen holos of Coruscant, the seat of both the Old Republic and the Galactic Empire. The planet was essentially one giant city, the surface choked by buildings, a forest of metal and plexiglass. By all accounts, Nar Shaddaa was a less reputable version of Coruscant. He could sense the corruption of the city emanating from the surface like a foul miasma. It wasn't the cold mist that filled his soul when he sensed the presence of the Dark Side, but this greasy fog led down that horrid path. He was glad that he wasn't living here.

"Looks like Gorgo's arranged transportation to his dealership, Captain," the pilot said, the dark-skinned human woman turning to glance at Tiber. "He has a speeder and driver waiting for you just off taxiway."

"Thanks," he said. "You two sticking around?"

"Until we get confirmation from you that you've secured the ship," she said. "If you need to bug out before then, we'll be here. We've got weapons stowed away in case you and your guys need the extra firepower."

"Probably not a bad idea," Tiber said. "We'll take what we need and leave the rest."

"As you say, Captain," the pilot said. "Good luck down there."

Tiber headed back to the hold to direct his team to the weapons lockers to arm up. Threepio just muttered "Oh, dear." and followed them. Between his pistol and lightsaber, Tiber felt like he was set, but the others weren't too shy. Wes picked a vibroblade to go with his own rifle and pistol while Orla and Yuri helped themselves to a pair of small blaster carbines. Once everybody was armed to their own satisfaction, Tiber led the procession down the loading ramp onto the landing platform. A luxury speeder was waiting for them nearby, a grim-faced Weequay with a blaster rifle standing guard. He watched suspiciously as the group approached and knocked on the speeder door. The driver stepped out and straightened the collar of his expensive-looking black jacket. The driver was a red-eyed Chiss, his dark blue skin taking on a strange metallic sheen in the light of the landing strip.

"Captain Jayce Windcutter, I presume?" he asked.

"The one and only," Tiber said, fishing the data pad with his credentials out of his jacket for the Chiss' inspection. He handed it back to Tiber once he was satisfied.

"We're prepared to take you to Master Gorgo presently, Captain. You may call me Denarik, if you like. This is Hondo," he added, gesturing to the Weequay bodyguard. "I wasn't told we were picking up such a large group."

"My crew," Tiber said. "They're eager to see their new ship."

"I'm sure they are," Denarik said, his smile thin. "But Master Gorgo is very...particular in how he deals with his customers. He will speak with you and only you until the transaction has been concluded. Once we've confirmed payment, your crew will be allowed aboard the new ship."

Tiber smiled coolly and adjusted his jacket and then made a seemingly negligent gesture with his right hand, "You understand that I prefer to have my crew present when conducting business."

Denarik's red eyes seemed to glaze over as he said, "I understand that you prefer to have your crew present when conducting business."

"They must be allowed to accompany me."

"They must be allowed to accompany you."

"Is there room enough in the speeder for all of us, Denarik?"

Denarik nodded and touched his fingers to his forehead as if troubled by a headache. "You and perhaps two others."

"That sounds fair," Tiber said and gestured at C-3PO and Wes to join him. "If you give the location of Gorgo's place of business to my other crewmen, they can follow us there."

"As you wish, Captain," Denarik said, still looking a bit dazed.

Tiber, Wes and Threepio piled into the back of the speeder, leaving Yuri and Orla to rent one of their own and follow along later. Tiber affected relaxation, taking a moment to glance at each of his companions. C-3PO appeared unfazed by what had just occurred, but seeing as he was physically incapable of making facial expressions, Tiber had no frame of reference as how he was feeling. Wes, on the other hand, was doing his best not to stare outright at Tiber, though the small smile on his bearded face said that he was impressed. Tiber dared a tiny, cocksure wink.

"So, how far to Gorgo's place?" Tiber asked.

"Shouldn't take us more than about ten minutes or so," Denarik said.

"Does he have all his customers shuttled to him like this? This is a pretty high-end piece of equipment you have here."

Denarik chuckled. "Master Gorgo likes to add that personal touch. He always says that a good businessman goes out of his way to make his customers feel special."

"Compared to the transport we arrived in, this thing feels like a luxury liner," Wes said.

"Well, Master Gorgo can't help it if he likes to flaunt his wealth a little bit," Denarik said.

 _Meaning he likes to display his power,_ Tiber thought. From what he knew of the Hutts, they favored ostentatious displays of wealth as a sign of their own individual power, a tacit way of threatening those who may oppose them. Tiber remembered a story he had heard about how Leia had killed the crime lord Jabba with her own hands during the Galactic Civil War and wondered why she was giving money to a slug like Gorgo when other options were available. Act of desperation, most likely. It was difficult to get a brand new starship outside of New Republic space without arousing suspicion from the First Order and Leia's opponents in the Senate. Tiber didn't exactly relish the thought of having to kill a Hutt with his bare hands, if it came down to it.

No good dwelling on these things, but he had to be ready for literally anything. The Knights of Ren or Snoke himself could interrupt the meeting for all he knew.

Tiber saw Gorgo's building come into view as the speeder approached, squat and wide much like its owner. From his seat in the back of the speeder, Tiber could easily see the lights illuminating the facade and the walkway lined by flowering trees. A large holographic sign in shifting colors floated above the front of the building with words in Huttese and Basic scrolling along around it. It looked like every other reputable starship dealer Tiber had seen.

 _It's a pretty costume,_ Tiber thought.

Denarik stopped the speeder at the end of the walkway and glanced back at Tiber. "We're here. Please step outside and follow me, Captain Windcutter."

Tiber and the others got out of the speeder as Yuri and Orla pulled in behind them. Tiber raised his hand in a wave and Denarik eyed them curiously, raising a hand to rub at his forehead. Tiber tried not to smile at that. The group followed Denarik and Hondo up the walkway to the front of the building, the plexiglass doors sliding open to admit them. The first room was a security checkpoint where a security droid checked the crew in and performed a weapons check. Tiber kept his expression as impassive as he could while the others were forced to hand over their rifles and carbines, though they were allowed to keep sidearms for personal protection. Tiber watched as the droid examined his lightsaber, its optical receivers contracting briefly as if blinking.

"There are no references in our security protocol regarding lightsabers, Master Denarik," the droid said. "I am uncertain of how to proceed."

"As am I..." Denarik said, fixing Tiber with a red-eyed stare, equal parts suspicious and curious.

"I carry it with me as a sort of good luck charm," Tiber said, figuring a little kernel of honesty couldn't hurt too much. "It belonged to my grandfather, you see."

Denarik nodded absently and turned his attention back to the security droid. "Your scans don't detect anything unusual?"

"No, sir," the droid said. "There are no explosive or toxic compounds concealed inside the lightsaber."

"Activate it," Denarik said.

The droid held the lightsaber horizontally in front of itself and activated the lightsaber with a familiar _snap-hiss_ and extended the blazing yellow energy blade and turned it over in its metal claw, the blade humming. Tiber watched with his hands clasped behind his back and turned to glance at Denarik, who was staring at the ancient weapon with obvious interest. Even Hondo, stoic as he was, seemed visibly intrigued.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"Yes," he said, the Chiss reaching up to rub at his chin. "Forgive me, Captain, I've never seen one of these in person before. I understand they're worth quite a bit these days."

Tiber felt a brief, protective flash of annoyance and said, "It's not for sale, of course. If there is nothing else, may we speak with Gorgo?"

"Of course, Captain," Denarik said and gestured at the droid. "Return Captain Windcutter's lightsaber, please."

Tiber returned the lightsaber to his belt and followed Denarik and Hondo through the security checkpoint into the main lobby. Directly across from the door was a wide, semi-circular desks were reception droids were standing by to assist incoming customers. The soft lighting and ambient music gave the place a relaxed, comfortable feel, meant to keep guests of all species at ease. Collections of chairs sat around small holoprojectors that played local news programs, sporting events and various advertisements for the latest, top-of-the-line starship and speeder models. A large alcove off to the left-side wall had a vending machine and various complimentary refreshments. The only thing was missing was some ridiculous nickname for the proprietor like "Generous Gorgo" or some nonsense. If he was trying this hard to look legitimate, he might as well go all-out on the image.

Even though Tiber wasn't here to perform any shady deals for Gorgo, the mission brief had made it clear that this was a back-channel, off-the-books purchase that would make it harder to track. If the Resistance was seen openly doing business with the Hutts, it would ruin their credibility and feed First Order propaganda that they were indeed a lawless band of pirates and terrorists.

"Captain Windcutter, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to Master Gorgo's office," Denarik said. "While I appreciate your need to have your crew present during business transactions, this is as far as they'll be allowed to go for the time being. I hope you find that a...respectful compromise."

"It'll do, I suppose," Tiber said and nodded his head to C-3PO. "Will Gorgo strongly object to the presence of my protocol droid? I don't speak Huttese and would prefer to have an objective translator present during our discussion."

"That is acceptable," Denarik said, nodding his head. "So long as your droid understands that the nature of the discussion remains purely confidential."

"Got that, Threepio?" Tiber asked, smiling wryly.

"I will be glad to comply with any confidentiality requests, Captain Windcutter," Threepio said, evidently glad that things had remained civil so far.

"Glad to hear it," Denarik said. "This way, please."

Tiber and Threepio followed the Chiss down a hallway off the main lobby where a turbolift was waiting, flanked by a pair of Weequay security guards in blue-and-white uniforms. Denarik pressed his thumb to a scanner by the lift door and the doors slid open. Tiber and Threepio followed him in, Tiber folding his hands in front of himself, mentally practicing his quick-draw. Better to be a touch paranoid than wind up in the trash compactor.

The turbolift doors slid open, letting the passengers off inside a room that was far too decadent to be called an "office" on most planets. The Hutts were in a class of their own to be sure. The air was heavily perfumed and tapestries and artwork from two dozen worlds alone adorned the space. Gorgo himself was seated on a massive cushioned seat flanked by a pair of his blue-clad bodyguards and, rather unnecessarily, a green-skinned Twi'lek sat at the great slug's flank within reach, wearing what Tiber assumed was a dancer's outfit – she looked more like she had just grabbed some spare bits of black fabric and tossed them onto herself haphazardly in a pathetic attempt at modesty. There was no protocol droid in sight beyond C-3PO – being a moon orbiting the Hutt homeworld of Nal Hutta, it would make sense that almost everyone living on Nar Shadaa would understand Huttese.

Denarik stepped forward and bowed at the waist, "Master Gorgo. May I present Captain Jayce Windcutter."

Tiber bowed his head with a polite, "A pleasure to finally meet you."

The Hutt responded with a rumbling chuckle and spoke in that deliberate, ponderous tongue the Hutts were so well-known for. Threepio translated immediately.

"Master Gorgo bids you welcome," he said. "And would like to offer you a glass of Corellian brandy before you begin negotiating."

Tiber wanted to make a smart-ass remark about being liquored up before an important discussion, but he instead politely accepted and made his way to the long, oval-shaped table separating Gorgo from his prospective client. A server droid wheeled over with a glass of some amber liquid that burned a little going down. The Corellian stuff was not for the weak of liver.

"Now," Tiber started. "I believe all we needed to do was-"

He was cut off as an alarm klaxon began shrieking and Denarik's comm just about exploded with frantic yelling about armed intruders attacking the front of the building. Gorgo was barking orders at his security guards and the wall opened up behind his platform – a panic room, perhaps? Tiber jumped up out of his seat and drew his pistol, his own comm squawking.

"Captain, we've got multiple hostiles at the front of the building!" Wes yelled and the sound of blaster fire could be clearly heard in the background. "They just knocked the front door open and started blasting their way in!"

"Find a place to dig in and help Gorgo's security hold them back, I'm coming down to help," he said, following Denarik and Hondo to the turbolift. A Rodian male with a shotgun joined them inside. One of the other guards was ushering a rather frantic-looking Threepio into the panic room with the others.

"Roger that, Captain," Wes said and the comm switched off.

"We got any backup coming?" Tiber asked Denarik as the lift doors slid shut.

"For the time being, we are the backup," the Chiss said, checking his pistol.

Tiber just shook his head, "Fantastic."


End file.
